After I ran towards the train doors and got on before they successfully closed, a couple of guys did so themselves the few times the doors did try to close.
The first person was a man with dry short wavy hair who wore his white earbuds as if his very life depended on the sounds being emitted from them. He strided towards the doors as they had begun to close only to find them open up wide as he crossed the arc into the cabin. He smiled to himself – a cynical gesture as if to say "huh, typical" – and made his way into the upper section of the train cabin.
At this point, the people leaving the escalator had noticed that the train we were on – which probably should have left a minute ago had it actually dreamed of any real chance of coming remotely on time – was in fact still here.
And so they did what any good but hurried business person does in the morning: they ran for the door.
Much like the fellow I just mentioned, the train doors had already signaled the ending of their "open" period only made their minds race further.
The second person made it through without so much as even a hair out of place. I cannot tell you what he looked like or even the air of confidence he brought with him as I was paying more attention to the third person.
The third person ran like a frantic banker and had it been me, I probably wouldn't have bothered with the attempt. His curls of black still wet with the slick gel he put on only those ten or twenty minutes prior were unmoved by his dash for the doors.
And he – the final part of the train door trilogy – probably thought he'd make it as he found all parts of his being in the cabin with the doors closed.
Well, all parts except for his right foot which the doors had decided to become one with.
His black shiny shoe remained there for a few seconds amidst a slightly puzzled look to his face. He couldn't move it and his attempts to pry the door open with his hands were going nowhere: he was well and truly stuck. It probably would have helped the brakes on the train though at the expense of this late-twenty-something's shoes.
When all hope had practically been lost in his own ability to save himself from the jaws of desperation, the doors opened one more final time and he slipped his foot through before they closed again.